Phoenix Child
by hel1234
Summary: The little boy; lost and afraid made his way through the daunting forest. Did he know then that he would one day become the greatest wizard the world had ever seen? Albus grows up in a world of darkness and escape and finally the truth inside is revealed.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Hiya everyone! Well, this is the fifth story I'm writing so far and it was just like one of those *lying-in-bed-thinking-about-nothing-much- wow!-brainwave!* sort of things, which I'm sure we all have from time to time!  
  
Please read on, and tell me what you think!  
  
**  
  
Chapter One - Innocent eyes.  
  
The full moon shone brightly in the midnight sky, creating a pale shadow around the thick trees. Their leaves glistened as the dew set on them, and the water trickled, like tears, down their sides. The sounds of bird's wings, and their calls echoed through the trees, and owls hooted softly to the night, creating the music of the midnight forest. But through the darkness and wilderness, the sound of running feet, and rapid breathing emerged, growing louder, and more desperate. As the moonlight hit the running figure, a flash of light auburn hair caught its glimpse. The figure looked short, too short to be a man, and the slight panic in his breathing revealed that it was probably a child; a frightened child.  
  
The child ran very fast, jumping over fallen trees, and ripping through bushes; young as he was, he did not weep for the scratches and cuts lining his arms and face. As he dashed through the undergrowth of the immense forest, he did not look behind for his pursuer, he just ran, stumbling occasionally away from the heart of the forest. Another ray of moonlight hit his face, and did more often as the tall trees grew thinner, and the path became a little smoother. A pale, thin face was distinguishable along with a small, straight nose; he had freckles around his cheeks and nose, and a head of thick, auburn hair, shining in the dim light. As the tree's grew away from each other, more light shone through and then you could see the child's eyes; glittering, as the light danced upon them, two, light blue eyes, deep and soulful, but yet so innocent. From them poured the fear and exhaustion he obviously felt in his whole body, but he did not slow down, he kept going.  
  
He turned his head for the first time, still sprinting, to see if his stalker was in close pursuit, and even though he showed no signs of seeing anyone or hearing anything but the forest's echoes, and his own feet pounding the ground, he ran on. The boy looked thin and undernourished, yet he seemed so fit to be running at such a sustained pace. His breathing grew heavier and more constricted, but he just swallowed and carried on, running as though there was no tomorrow. And then, suddenly, the boy's short foot caught on a rock on the ground and he tripped; his small body was flung through the air, and he landed awkwardly a little far ahead in the path. He let out a small, painful whimper, and put his hand beneath him, pushing up, but his body did not seem to want to get up, so he flumped back down.  
  
The soft hooting of he owls increased a little, and rose slightly, as though they were asking questions, and replying to them. The tree tops swayed softly in a light breeze flowing from the east and the moon shone down on the little child lying crumpled on the floor. The boy raised his head a little and then lowered it again. He lay his hair down on the dry leaves and twigs scattering the forest floor and closed his innocent eyes in exhaustion and curled his body around him, trying to block out the chilly night air surrounding him. The rustling of small animals around him, and the owl's music from the tall, swaying trees lulled him softly to sleep. For a while.  
  
The owls watched silently from their high perches as a tall figure trod clumsily through the undergrowth, his face hidden by his slouched, bent-backed posture. He breathed in short, low grunts and even the small animals seemed to sense a danger in staying to close to him. The figure was not like the small child, it was taller and more muscular as it slashed at the brambles and wild plants. Unlike the child again, he was not panting in fear, he was breathing heavily; even hungrily. His head was covered in dirty blonde hair, hanging limply around his shoulders, and he kept brushing it back angrily. He had passed the thick undergrowth and was now trampling along the uneven path through the silvery trees. He held a strange object in his hand, a long, thin piece of wood, smooth and well carved. He held it in front of him like some kind of weapon, brandishing it whenever he heard an unnatural sound around him.  
  
Moments later, he saw the child curled up in the middle of the path, moonlight playing across his pale face and the soft breeze ruffling his hair slightly. He lay so still and so silently that he could have been dead, but for the gentle rising of his chest as he breathed; even though the midnight air was cold, he was not shivering. The man approached the child slowly and a small chuckle added to the sound of the tree's swaying branches. He pointed the thin piece of wood down at him, but didn't strike him with it; instead he shuffled forward and swung his booted foot back, and let it thump into the boy's back. The boy let out a cry of pain and turned to see his attacker, one small hand clutching his bruised spine. The innocent, blue eyes widened in fear as they set upon the tall, bulky outline and the lank, blonde hair. He scrambled away from the man's reach, kicking at the ground he was trapped upon, the dust rose from the ground but sunk as he gave up, defenceless and very scared. He had a very distinct quietness about him, and stillness, something that made him seem very bare, even though he was dressed in clothes.  
  
The man edged closer and brandished the piece of wood at the boy. He muttered a few indistinguishable words to the night, and a jet of electric blue light shot from the tip of the wood. It illuminated the man's face for a second before it shot at the boy; the unshaven, ugly face of a man shone from beneath the blonde mass, its features grim. Two rows of yellow, chipped teeth formed a malicious smile upon the blotchy face; small, watery eyes glittered dark, brown in a slightly mad fashion, and a recently broken nose added to the oily features. His brow was smothered in sweat, and his face was set in a wild ecstasy.  
  
The light hit the boy in the chest and he was lifted into the air and thrown, terrified, into the trunk of a thick tree. A rustling of feathers and of the cries of owls reached the atmosphere, and no more did they hoot softly, soothing him, they screeched angrily to the night, and then became silent. The child lay in a small heap at the tree trunk, pushing himself up, but falling down again. Silent tears strolled down his cheeks as he felt pain erupting all over his body. But he screwed up his shining blue eyes, and slowly and weakly got to his feet. He raised a trembling hand to his face and wiped the tears away, his eyes now fixed on the man, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting.  
  
"Albus, child," the man said, in a low, dangerous voice. His piece of wood was still pointing at the boy, unmoving, very still.  
  
"Why do you run away from me?" His voice didn't sound hurt, or annoyed, or anything distinctly normal. It sounded harsh, and accusing. The boy stood perfectly still, unflinching, unspeaking. Even though no emotion could be read from his face or voice, the boy was very sad, through his soulful eyes and in his very actions it was clear. The man stepped forward, still quite far from him, his face now trying to hide the insane loathing he felt inside. Not even the tree's rustled the silent air; all was frightened, all was afraid of what was to come.  
  
"I am no enemy of yours." He pressed on, adjusting his voice to a mockingly friendly tone. He edged even closer.  
  
A loud cry issued from a bird above and made the man look up in surprise; the bird fluttered its wings and then disappeared into the night. Seizing his chance, the boy, Albus, jumped behind the tree on which he had been thrown. He leant against the coarse, damp bark, and shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the nightmare surrounding him. He heard the soft footsteps approaching and knew the end was near. He crept around the tree, hoping to hold his slayer off for perhaps just a moment. The footsteps crushing the dry leaves made their way over to the spot where Albus had stood just a few seconds ago. Silently, Albus made his way around the tree and then dashed swiftly over to another tree, clutching at its rough texture.  
  
The man let out a grunt of impatience and slammed a fist into the tree. The boy's ears were listening so hard that he heard the pieces of bark fall softly to the ground.  
  
"I did not kill your father to play games with you, boy!" he snarled, scuffing his feet along the dried leaves. But he did not come towards the small boy pressing himself very hard against the silvery tree just feet away. Albus felt the bark dampen as the tears leaked from his clenched eyelids; he didn't dare move to dry them, he jus remained very still, letting them fall unchecked. The man let out a roar of anguish, and swore loudly.  
  
"Come out, Albus," he beckoned, anger still hovering in his voice. Albus did not move, but he feared that his heart, beating so fast that the pounding was in his ears might give him away. He opened his eyes and blinked the tears away so he could see clearly; as he looked, he saw an opening in the tree's up ahead. If only I could reach them! He pleaded with his mind. If only I could get to that clearing, perhaps I would find someone . . .  
  
"You cannot hide for long, little boy," he sneered, talking to the trees around him, sweeping back his dirty hair.  
  
"One way or another, I will find you. And when I do, I will make you beg me for mercy, and I shall have the very pleasure of not granting you any!" the same madness had returned to the man, and he began to laugh in his insane guffawing. Albus could not hold on anymore, he pushed the tears away from his face and let go of the tree. And then he ran again; ran like the wind awakening a ferocious ocean, pushing himself harder and harder, not looking back. The clearing was so near, yet it wasn't a clearing! It was the edge of the forest! Albus ran faster than he had ever ran in his life. His whole life; his very being fixed on reaching that clearing. He ached all over; he was near to collapsing, to falling. Feet away, he sprinted through the last few trees bathed in silver moonlight, and -  
  
Two large, strong arms reached out and caught him around the middle, but they weren't from behind. Exhausted and with no energy left, he raised his innocent eyes to the figure and noticed something strange about him, but too tired, too breathless to care, he collapsed into the stranger's arms.  
  
**  
  
OK, well, what did you think??? I would really like to know! Please review, I would really, really appreciate it! Thanks! 


	2. Fawtrow and Pannaby

A/N Hiya, chapter two is up, little Albus' story is on its way, read on and please  
review!  
  
Disclaimer - The plot and any unrecognised characters (i.e. Pannaby) belong to me, but Dumbledore belongs to JKRowling. Thank you!  
  
Chapter Two - Fawtrow and Pannaby  
  
The first light of the sun shone hazily through the tree's branches, and layered warmth upon the sleeping face of the young boy. He stirred slightly as a cool breeze fluttered through his hair, but it did not disturb his peaceful, fearless dreams in the slightest. Even though he was sleeping, even though he was not aware of where he was, or what he was doing, he looked safe upon the bed of leaves and flower petals. The aroma rising from the flowers scented his mind and relaxed his exhausted body, soothing him at last. As he slept soundly, he did not notice the two strange figures standing silently nearby.  
  
The soft sound of hooves trotting over the dry leaves echoed around the trees, and between them stood an astonishing sight. The magnificent body of a palomino horse shone, smooth and beautiful in the morning sun; his tail gleaming a glossy, bright white. But where the neck and head of a horse should have been, the head and naked torso of a man stood.  
  
Thick, silver blonde hair draped down his back, glinting enchantingly in the light. His skin was pale, and clear, and he had a muscular physique. He had very striking features; two, deep, very profound hazel eyes were set above a thin, very straight nose. His cheekbones were well pronounced and locks of blonde hair lay around his face, making him appear very majestic. Upon his handsome face, was clearly set the wisdom and strength of age.  
  
There was no doubting the identity of this creature: he was a centaur. Half-man, half-horse, the centaurs were wiser than any man, and fairer than any woman. He stood, gracefully in the early sunlight, surveying the small child upon the ground. Beside him, stood another centaur; chestnut brown, and with dark hair and dark eyes; eyes that showed sadness through their shadowy depths. He too had the look of wisdom on his face.  
  
The only noise between those trees was the spring birds, singing for the final arrival of their beloved season. Between the branches of the tall trees, you could make out a clear blue sky, free of clouds and full of sunshine. The two mysterious centaurs continued to gaze at the boy whom they had found wandering alone in the woods the night before. The dark centaur raised his elegant head and closed his eyes for a moment. He seemed to be in deep thought, as he did not move, except for the rise and fall of his chest. The palomino centaur looked at his companion and sighed.  
  
"We were right to bring him here, Fawtrow." He spoke in a low, shrewd voice. His voice was calming, and soothing as though it spoke from the forest itself; speaking from the trees and the leaves and the birdsong.  
  
The centaurs seemed very graceful in the way they moved through the forest; they treated it with a respect that only they and the forest could understand. They were a part of the forest, a part of its beauty and tranquillity, as was the forest a part of them. The dark centaur opened his dark, sorrowful eyes and returned his gaze to the boy. He still slept, he slept as though he had not slept in days, and he looked better for it; his pale face had lightened, and his cuts and scratches were not bleeding anymore. He looked peaceful, but still very tense, even as he slept; he had shivered in the night, even though he had been laden with warmth. The dark eyes rose to meet the blonde centaur.  
  
"Yes, he would have frozen in the cold." He said, in a flat, sad voice. A slight breeze ruffled through the slivery blonde hair of the taller centaur. He raised his face to the breeze and closed his eyes; he breathed in the air caressing his skin and then let it flow back out.  
  
"He is only a little one." The dark centaur continued, the breeze now flowing through his hair. He looked back at the young boy, sleeping sweetly on the bed they had made for him, and sighed deeply.  
  
"Yet," the palomino centaur spoke with a more far away voice this time, still facing the breeze.  
  
"We did not predict his coming. And no man should ever enter our Forest in these ages." A saddened expression came across the older centaurs face; his hazel eyes looked empty for a moment, as though recalling a memory from long ago.  
  
"He is no man of which you speak, Pannaby." Fawtrow said in the same flat tone.  
  
"He is no more than a child. We do not harm the innocent." He raised his eyes to the white centaur, Pannaby. Pannaby stamped his hooves angrily.  
  
"I did not think of harming the boy!" he stated, looking enraged.  
  
"But our Forest is no safe place for the man-child to stay; remember our laws, Fawtrow. Remember the others; they will not welcome him as we will! Their hearts are still hardened by the loss of Conatus and the Northern herd." Pannaby stared sadly at his friend, trying to see reason in the dark depths of his eyes.  
  
"Too long has this feud lasted, my friend." Fawtrow said, in a gentle, wise voice, laying a chestnut haired hand on his quiver strap. He wrenched it apart and it fell with a soft clunk onto the floor. The delicately feathered arrow tails fluttered in the wind, but the detailed case lay motionless, after many uses. He took the well carved bow from his shoulder and let that fall upon the quiver. The weapons lay sadly upon the ground, to be used no more. Fawtrow stared at them for a moment, but then turned his head away.  
  
"Too long has the blood of our race and wizard-kind been shed. It will end and by this boy it shall be so, for it is not our purpose to fight and die in an unworthy battle." His words were defiant but held the bitterness of the long, weary battle he had fought in. He took a few steps closer to the sleeping child, and sighed a deep, tiresome sigh.  
  
"You are right of course." Said Pannaby. He opened his mouth to speak once more, but Fawtrow shot out an arm, silencing him.  
They both watched as the little boy stirred upon the leaves, and then opened his bright blue eyes. For a moment, he blinked sleepily around at the trees and shielded his brow from the sunlight with a small arm. His thick, auburn hair glinted in the light and looked silky around his young face. He flinched as he lifted his left arm, and looked down to see a long cut lining his elbow; he laid his hand on the cut and soothed it gently. He made no noise but had the same quietness about him, the bareness and peacefulness together. It was only when he stood up that he noticed the two strange figures watching him.  
  
He let out a short gasp, and his blue eyes widened. He stood very still, not daring to move. Pannaby smiled at the little boy standing alone in their forest.  
  
"Do not be afraid, little one." He said softly, his voice soothing away the child's fears. Albus continued to stare at them, unblinking. He didn't seem afraid, just very shocked. The birds continued to sing, harmonising with the sweet sound of the morning.  
  
"We will not hurt you." Albus softened a little, he liked these words; he did not want to be hurt anymore. Pannaby took a step forward, but the boy did not move away, he just stood, staring at him.  
  
"Will you tell me your name, man-child?" Fawtrow asked, in his flat voice. Albus blushed and looked away. His father had always told people his name; he only knew his first name. But he could tell these centaurs his name, they were not armed, they did not look like they would harm him.  
  
"Albus." He said, looking at the dark centaur, looking into his fathomless dark eyes. Fawtrow nodded and smiled wisely.  
  
"That is a good name, Albus. But do you have another?" he studied Albus, and sensed a great deal of emptiness upon the boy. He took another step closer.  
  
"They called my father Dumbledore. But he is dead now, and I never knew my last name." he spoke quietly and sadly of his father. For him, the grief of his father's death was still shadowing his steps, haunting his mind. Before either of the centaurs could speak again, Albus began.  
  
"And you are centaurs of the forests." Both centaurs smiled and Pannaby laughed slightly.  
  
"Indeed we are, Albus Dumbledore. My name is Pannaby and this is my friend Fawtrow. This is our forest." He spoke kindly to the child, and Albus felt warmer towards the strange creatures in front of him, as they spoke his name. Albus Dumbledore. He liked that. Then Fawtrow took a more serious tone.  
  
"Last night I found you fleeing a man. I brought you here, you are safe now." A flicker of fear passed over the boy's face as he heard of the night's events. Albus felt a slight prickling at the corner of his eyes.  
  
"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I was running from him, he chased me and then I - I -" tears blossomed from his eyes as he cried silently, staring into space. Pannaby trotted forward and held the boy to his chest, letting him cry into his soft blonde hair. Albus felt warm and safe in the arms of this strange, but wonderful being.  
  
"Hush, now, Albus, you will stay with us now. You will be safe." And with that, he lifted the boy up onto his back, and reared his hind legs. Albus put his arms around the soft furry chest and felt the smooth hair beneath his legs. Pannaby took a horn from around his neck and raising it to his lips; he blew three, sweet notes. Then, smiling at Fawtrow he said.  
  
"Lets ride!" and with that, they galloped through the tree's, through the patches of sunlight and out of sight.  
  
As they left, they did not notice what was strange upon the early morning sky; a single star shone brightly against the clear blue. The star did not look familiar, but new, and proud in the way it shone so brightly. The wind rushing through the trees slowed to a breeze and it sang with the birds in a sweet melody: a new star, a new life.  
  
*  
  
Well, that's chapter number two!! I really hope you liked it, please review! I would really appreciate it!!  
  
Thanks to all my reviews for chapter one!!  
  
Amandela - Thanks very much, I know, I hate cliff-hangers too, but its great writing  
them!! : ) keep reading!!  
  
makaro1- Thanks very much, and yes I am going to keep writing!! *never fear*  
  
Noura - I totally agree with you, Dumbledore is a great guy, and I'm really glad you  
like my style :) and don't worry - he'll have a growth spurt!!  
  
Athena Hermmie - Thanks very much, keep reading!! : )  
  
ping*pong - OK, how many times did you review my story?! lol.thanks very much,  
and, yes, I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going!! Thanks again and  
keep reading!!  
  
PhienixPadfoot89 - Thanks a lot, and sure I'll keep going!! Keep reading!! : )  
  
Luvaboydan*Hesmyman - Thanks very much, kellie, you're too kind *blushes* : )  
I'm glad you like it, keep reading chum!!  
  
Thanks everyone!! Keep reading!!  
  
helma  
xx 


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